Page 301 of The Daddy P.I. Casefiles: The Second Collection
I consider my free-swinging junk and decide against it. “No, but knees are okay. I’d actually like to work on the knee combinations Kru showed us in the lesson.”
I was surprised the combinations didn’t hurt me more than they did, given the state of my knee, and am wondering if it was the calisthenics Bren’s kickboxing instructor put us through at the beginning of class or just my knee fucking finally beginning to ease.
Bren nods. “Combination eleven, then, Sir?” She adjusts the pads against the first two strikes, and I hammer them into the pads.
My knee’s aching after a half-hour of sparring and I decide it’s a combination of Kru’s warm-up and the much better padding at his gym that kept my knee from bitching. I’m definitely joining my bold girl’s gym.
Bren doesn’t look fatigued yet. Fortunately, kickboxing’s not the only way I can wear my girl out. “You’re looking a little sweaty there, girl,” I say when it’s my turn with the pads again.Instead of strapping them on, I begin wiping them down with a towel.
“Not as sweaty as you, Sir.” She strips out of her gloves, pulls a pack of wipes out of her bag and cleans them. When I hold my hand out, she tosses me several wipes so I can do the pads and my own gloves. “Have I worn you out?”
I tuck the pads into her gym bag and rest my hands on my hips in mock disapproval. “That what you think?”
Grinning hugely, she nods. There’s so much light in my girl’s eyes; it hits me like a haymaker. Fills up my soul. And my cock, which she notices, her eyes flicking down and back to mine. Her grin gets, impossibly, wider.
“Remember when you told me to tell you if you were being too old and boring for me?”
“You daring to tell me now, girl?”
She bounces on her toes. “Would I, Sir?”
“You would. Let’s see how much sass you’ve got after I go nine rounds with that ass. Get in there, girl.” I jerk my head towards the playrooms. “Hope you know where the lube is, ‘cause if I find you before you find it, I’m taking that ass without any, and I’m only giving you a two-second head start.”
Bren squeals and bolts, darting around me toward the inner playroom.
“One. Two!” I shout after her before I follow her, wearing nothing but a huge grin of my own.
“Breathe out,” I tell Bren. “And I’m going to take one hand away. I still have you. You’re not going to sink.”
I slowly drop my hand from under her shoulders, leaving her body balanced on my left hand as she floats in Blunts’ huge pool.I’ve brought her into one of the many grottos in the pool to teach her to swim, so she’s not jostled. Although most of the festival is going on upstairs, there are some ponies being put through their paces underwater and the roped-off lap area is busy with more serious swimmers.
Bren’s no longer clinging to my arm the way she was when I first got her floating, but there’s still a lot of tension in her face and body. Her eyes have never left mine and they’re full of a feverish light. It’s not those sad shadows, but my bold girl isn’t happy, either.
“Tell me what’s scaring you, girl.”
“It’s stupid, Sir. I know I can stand up.”
“This isn’t about being smart or stupid. It’s not about logic. It’s about fear. Tell me what’s scaring you.”
“That I’ll sink and drown. I know it’s not rational, Sir—” She tenses even further as she speaks and grabs for my arm again. I let her hold it for a minute until she begins to relax.
“Both arms out again. Spread your body across the water. I’m going to count down from ten.”
Before I reach five, she’s released my arm and is floating again, very nearly on her own. I’m sure I can take my left hand away, but I leave it in the small of her back, so she feels my support.
“You know you can just put your feet down and stand up. The water’s not over your head. Why are you afraid?”
“I shouldn’t be. I know that.”
“Fear isn’t rational, sweetheart. Tell me why you’re afraid.”
“I’m out of control,” she finally whispers.
“That’s right. You feel out of control. And the water isn’t a Dom who will respect your safe words or check in with you. You have to take back control, sweetheart. Make that water your bitch.” That gets me a faint smile. “The first step to taking back control in the water is learning how to float. Once you can float,no matter what happens to you in the water, you’ll always be able to float. You’ll always have that measure of control.”
“Floating’s my safe word,” she says.
“That’s a good way to think of it.”
